Alexis Dubon, waitress, New York City: I’ve been waiting tables at restaurants for 15
years. I started at Clinton St. Baking Company, when brunch was becoming an integral
part of people’s weekends in the early 2000s. Then, for the last decade, I’ve been at
Mary’s Fish Camp, which has become a second home.
Waiting tables is perfect for me. It’s social, while maintaining a level of anonymity and
implied transience. It’s active, and challenging in all the right ways. I’ve met the best
people I’ve ever known in restaurants. Our world draws a particular type; those with
thinner skins are weeded out quickly, leaving only the cynical, impermeable, and
formidable, who are so often armed with unmatched senses of humor.
Anyone who sticks around and becomes a “career waiter” knows how to navigate the
restaurant ecosystem, thriving under pressure, developing methods to get the most work
done in the least time but elegantly and seamlessly. Working essentially on commission,
we devise tricks to maximize volume, shaving minutes off turn times, while making
everyone feel so enamored by our service that they want to thank us in the tip line. We
learn to read people, recognizing which types respond to different kinds of service and
alter our personalities accordingly. For the boisterous North Carolinian with the dad
jokes, we are informal and goofy, ready with bawdy puns; for the persnickety finance
bro, we gently communicate which steps of service he should anticipate, lest he assume
it will not get done without his direction. We resolve issues with unhappy customers,
becoming experts in customer relations and retention, and we cultivate core groups of
regulars who become more like family than guests.
Many believe the misconception that my grandmother so eloquently articulated, that
“anyone can pick a plate up and put it down.” Yes. That is one part of our job. However,
there is so much more that, if done right, goes unnoticed. Well-meaning customers often
asked, “What’s your real job?” That’s my real job; it’s a real job. And I liked my life.
Then came March. Almost all of us career waiters were forced into unemployment,
along with most of the country. But in the wake of this pandemic, many restaurants
were forced to shutter permanently, leaving many without jobs to return to. In my 15
years working in restaurants, I’ve established job security and enough connections that
if something happened, I would be fine. But not anymore. My kind is facing extinction,
and my only choice is to move on.
But where is there to go? Everywhere else I am considered “unskilled labor.” I have sent
my resumé far and wide to no avail. Recently, I was turned down from a position as a
personal assistant because I “only had restaurant experience.” It takes little imagination
to guess the thought process. “What could a waitress have to offer my company? We
have no plates to pick up and put down. Pass.”
So here I am, one in an army of highly skilled, self-motivated, fast-on-our-feet workers,
struggling to find a new home and being turned away from every doorstep. I am on my
own, unrecognized and undesirable, a woman without a country.
I can only hope that the restaurant world can recover post-COVID. I loved everything
about working in restaurants and, although for now, a return to the homeland feels as
out of reach as setting down roots somewhere new, we are nothing if not resilient, and
we will build back up from the ashes.
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